The Secret Life of Bella Swan
by OhMyWord
Summary: I’m more than a little embarrassed to say that I rearranged my shifts so I’d work on the days he was most likely to come in. Yes I do, in fact, realize how lame that probably sounds.


Author's Note: This is a sequel to The Secret Life of Edward Cullen; it's the story from Bella's point of view. It doesn't really matter which one you read first, as long as you read both :). Just pay close attention, this story jumps around without warning. But it's worth it, at least I hope it is. Also, in the first story I mentioned that the theme is based loosely on a movie; the movie is The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Bonus points to the only person that got it right!

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

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The Secret Life of Bella Swan

We were making love. Ok no, scratch that. I wouldn't call what we were doing making love, which implies a certain amount of gentleness that was not present in what we were doing. The only light was from the small pane of glass in the door. The sounds of our pleasure echoed off the walls and I was pleasantly surprised to find that we hadn't been caught yet. We had passed each other in the hall and he winked at me, pulling a key out of his pocket. After the obligatory check to make sure no one was around, we went into the empty office. Now my back was pressed against the desktop, his stood between my legs; his eyes were half closed. It was sexy as hell. He slipped a hand around my calf, raising it higher around his waist. That was all it took –

Someone was clearing their throat. My eyes snapped up from the computer monitor to look toward the sound. An older man in a bow tie stood there, looking at me impatiently. I put on my brightest customer service face, "can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a book. It used to be in the front, the cover is blue?" He looked at me expectantly, like I don't see dozens of different blue covered books every day. I hoped baselessly that he wasn't done with the description. He was.

"Well sir, I'm sorry but without a title or an author I can't really find the book for you," I tried to look like I actually was sorry, but I wasn't. Mostly I was tired, tired and something else that I'm too much of a lady to mention. What? I have boundaries. I was coming to the end of a double shift and the muscles in my legs and back were killing me from standing all day. The man made a sound of annoyance and stalked off. "Glad I could be of help," I muttered under my breath. I went back to staring bleary eyed at my computer monitor. I glanced at the time, 8:55 p.m. I felt a tightening in my stomach; he would be here soon…well, maybe.

He didn't come in every time I was here, but almost. I wonder idly sometimes if he doesn't do anything else but read all day. I wouldn't mind that I think. He tends to come in on Thursday nights and I'm more than a little embarrassed to say that I rearranged my shifts so I'd work on the days he was most likely to come in. Yes I do, in fact, realize how lame that probably sounds.

No one appeared to be walking toward me so I made my way around the various sofas and chairs to pick up the books and magazines that people neglected to put back when they were finished with them. I looked down at a slim book with a sepia photograph of a woman's bare back.

I was on the balcony; it was such a nice evening out. I sat perched on the chaise lounge, watching the tail end of the sunset. He straddled the seat, pressing his chest into my back, his breath tickled my skin. He kissed my neck and started slipping my white robe down off my shoulders, kissing the exposed skin. He let it fall in a puddle around my waist, moving his hands to my chest.

I flipped the book over so I didn't have to see the cover anymore. I picked up a few more things, putting them back in place before I crossed the main center aisle to put the last book in my hand away, a biography.

I saw him walking into the store, he looked even better than he did in my imagination. I leaned against one of the bookshelves to catch my breath; I really don't understand how one man can make me feel like I'm about to hyperventilate every time I see him.

He walked up behind me and whipped me around to face him. "Bella, come with me. Let me take you away from this place." I smiled at him, hoping to convey what I couldn't say with words. He kissed me then, we didn't care that people were watching.

"Bella? We need you back at customer service," the manager tapped me on the shoulder. I had half a mind to tell him to buzz off; he didn't like me because I wouldn't go out with him, but instead I said nothing and went back to my cage. A woman was standing there waiting; I ordered a book for her and proceeded to zone out.

The music sent a pounding rhythm right through my insides. The club was packed tonight, the kind of crowded that allowed for all sorts of sordid things to happen on the dance floor without anyone being the wiser. I was out there alone, I didn't care; I knew he'd be there soon enough. I felt his presence before I saw him. He came around to face me, hands low on my hips. I touched the planes of his chest through his shirt, feeling a familiar tightening sensation. Without warning, he spun me around roughly, pressing his chest close to my back. I rotated my hips against him, one arm going back to touch his neck; I loved the skin of his neck. He brought his face down and trailed his tongue up to my ear, biting gently. The tips of his fingers went into the waistband of my jeans.

I really need to stop this, it isn't healthy. Seriously. I live more in my head than I do in the real world, what does that say about my life? Here's what I'm going to do…ok, what I'm going to do is…I'm going to talk to him. For the first time. Yes I said it, for the first time. Don't laugh. We've sort of talked before, but it never lasted long enough for me to think of anything brilliant that would make him want to run away with me. He must think I'm a loser. What sounds flirty and mysterious in my head always ends up sounding like I've been nipping at the cooking sherry in real life.

I don't even drink.

I can't see him anymore and that has me worried. What if he left already? What if I really am just some little shopgirl to him? What if he really is as smart and gorgeous and sexually spectacular as my overworked mind makes him out to be?

Ok, what I need is a plan. He's bound to come back in some day and I'll be ready. Now I need to come up with a good opener, something smart and funny with a hint of flirtation. Flirtation, not desperation.

"You can stop looking, I'm right here."

"Hey, come here often?"

"Is that a phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Oh my God, I should be institutionalized.

Oh my God, there he is. He's coming this way. Crap crap crap. Be cool, he's probably just looking for a book. He just wants a book, it's alright.

"I want you," I whispered in his ear, I giggled, we were driving back home. It looked like we might not make it that far. I leaned over as far as I could, kissing that spot under his jaw that really got him going. I reached my hand toward the zipper of his pants.

He's here, ok say something, anything, say hi Bella. "Hi." I smiled, trying to look cute. He smiled back me and said hi. He had the best smile I've ever seen. Ok, breathe; you can have your panic attack later. Focus.

"Can I help you with something?" I had a sudden flashback of the driving fantasy and bit my lip. I had to squeeze my legs together to keep myself upright. He didn't say anything for a moment and I thought maybe he hadn't heard me.

"Um, I'm looking for a book." That struck me as a little funny, but I didn't laugh; he didn't need to think I was any weirder than he probably already thought I was.

"Ok, do you have a title? Author's name?"

We were on the street, I was pushed up against the wall of a building and he was kissing me, nipping at my lips, my neck –

I bit my lip again.

"Uh," he didn't seem to know what he was looking for, "I uh, I forgot it."

Damn. I was really hoping he was looking for something I could find for him. I could lead him over to it, proposition him in the middle of the store. Ok, so maybe not that second part.

"I'm sorry, but I can't really help you if you don't have any information," I really hated having to tell him I couldn't help him. I tried to give him my best 'I'm sorry' face.

"Uh, that's ok. Maybe I'll come back when I remember it," he practically ran away from me. Was I that bad? It was like I had the plague or something.

I don't even have a cold.

Not being able to stand the indirect rejection, I went to the back to see if I could be of use. He had probably left anyway. Working in the back was easy enough, but not easy enough to distract me from what was beginning to be an every spare moment ritual.

We were in bed; his mouth was on me, everywhere. The bedspread had long been pushed off the foot of the bed and the sheets were tangled down around our feet. We moved together like our bodies were made for each other. I could hear his deep moans in my ear until he licked my neck and then I don't think I could hear anything at all. He flipped us then, so I was on top, his hands moving from my hips, up my sides to my –

"Bella, they need you at a register." I startled at my manager's voice and he looked at me strangely. I was afraid maybe I had said something that I shouldn't have. He didn't seem to care, walking away without making sure I'd heard him.

I walked back to the front and there he was standing in line. This was fate giving me another chance! I think I could hear it saying something about not screwing it up again. Fate was awfully rude sometimes. I finished with a customer and then tried to pay attention to the lady that had moved to my register, but I was barely focused. She handed me a book of crosswords and a romance novel. I tried to go as fast as I could, but I felt like I was moving through sand. I tried to will whoever it was at the other register to slow down. Then I heard him, the man with the bow tie from earlier asking the cashier about the book with the blue cover. Yes! Just stay there, keep talking. Better yet, have him go try and find it for you. The lady walked away before I realized I was still holding her credit card. "Wait!" I may have said that a little too excitedly. The look she gave me when she turned around told me I had. I tried a casual smile, "you forgot your card." I practically threw it at her. She left, it was his turn.

I tried for something, I don't know, something, "you found it." His blank expression told me he had no idea what I was talking about. I should have stuck with saying nothing after that, but of course, I didn't. "When you came up before? You said you'd forgotten?" I said, trying for who knows what reason, to jog his memory of our awkward encounter.

"Oh! Yeah, it was this one." I had a feeling he was just trying to be nice. I started getting a little depressed and then he said, "I know the store is closing up soon and I was wondering if you wanted to maybe get a cup of coffee or something? It's a really nice night out." I had an urge, well I had a couple of urges at that instant, but mostly I had an urge to ask him to repeat himself. But for the sake of not further embarrassing myself, I put his book in a bag, trying to calm down. He just asked me out. Mystery guy of my many many dreams just asked me out. On a date. At least, I hope on a date. Get a hold of yourself.

I smiled by best just-happy-enough and not crazy smile, "sure." And then just because I don't know when enough is enough I threw in, "you come in here so often I feel like I know you." Did I just give away too much? "My name's Bella, by the way."

"Edward," he asked if wanted to meet him next door at the coffee place and I said yes, I would have met him in a back alley if he'd asked. I told him I had to do a couple of last minute things, so I'd meet him there. I waited impatiently for the cashier to come back so I could leave; I think my agitation was showing, people kept throwing me funny looks.

Once I was finally finished and outside the store I realized, I'm going on a date. A date with Edward, the object of way too many of my lurid fantasies. Another thought occurred to me, he had the most beautiful name. Edward. Ok, I may be getting a little carried away.

I saw him standing inside, waiting for me, he stared off into space. I took a deep breath and walked in. "Edward. Hi, sorry that took so long," I had a habit of apologizing for everything.

"I didn't mind at all," he was smiling, a lot actually.

We ordered and he led me to a little table tucked into a private corner. We talked until closing time about everything we could think of. He was a lot more charming than I think he gives himself credit for and I'm more than a little proud that I didn't embarrass myself once…ok, well not badly at least. He told me about his plans to become a journalist and I divulged that I wanted to be a writer. I've never told anyone that before.

At the end of the night I had a feeling I'd won him over, he asked to walk me home. That's a good sign. We walked extra slowly, still talking about our favorite this and that. It wasn't until we were already at my doorstep that I realized – we were at my doorstep. I had no idea what to do. Will he try and kiss me? Should I just do it? It's the 21st century after all. Does he even want to? I tried to think of something witty to say.

"Well, this is me," ok not witty, I know. "I had a really nice time tonight." I was trying to give him an opening.

"I did too," he said it very softly, stepping closer. I thought my heart was going thump right out of my chest as he leaned in to kiss me. I raised my head to meet him. The kiss was soft and light and exactly what I wanted it to be. I felt like I was two feet off the ground when we parted; I had to hold on to the collar of his jacket to keep from floating away. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," I was trying not so subtly to get him to kiss me again. It worked. The second kiss was even better than the first. He wrapped his arms around me, pressing his mouth hard on mine. I grasped his collar tighter in my hands and sunk into him. We finally pulled back and I looked at him; he looked happy, maybe a little dizzy. The feeling was mutual. "I'll see you tomorrow then, goodnight." I gave him a last kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight," his voice sounded husky which gave me very specific ideas. I turned and went up the steps to my front door before I could grab his hand and drag him up with me. I gave one last lingering glance in his direction before walking inside and shutting the door. I peaked outside a small window and saw him smiling.

Yes, it was a very good night.

end


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